


Homeless hearts

by Ischa



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Homelessness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Patrick is homeless, Pete has to make a documentary for Molko's class on something he finds extraordinary (he wants it to be Patrick) and Gerard is being charming.<br/>Kind of an art-school AU.</p><p><i>“You kissed Pete,” Gerard says into his brooding. He looks up, his fingers slipping on the strings of the guitar.<br/>“He kissed me,” Patrick corrects.<br/>“Hmmm...”<br/>“You know he likes you, right?” Patrick asks.<br/>“Yeah,” Gerard answers. He is holding a brush in his hand already, the butt of a cigarette swimming in an old coffee mug. Patrick thinks Gerard is hiding here. In his studio. Behind his brushes and the smell of paint, in plain sight in front of a canvas. He is hiding here, like Patrick is on the streets, like Pete is behind his bass and hurtful words. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeless hearts

**Title:** Homeless hearts ****  
**Pairing:** Patrick/Pete + Gerard  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Summary:** In which Patrick is homeless, Pete has to make a documentary for Molko's class on something he finds extraordinary (he wants it to be Patrick) and Gerard is being charming.  
 **Warning(s):** angst, also it's kind of sad and disturbing  
 **Author’s Notes:** Written for [](http://anon-lovefest.livejournal.com/profile)[**anon_lovefest**](http://anon-lovefest.livejournal.com/).  
 **Word Count:** 5.274  
 **Beta:** [](http://wolfpacklove.livejournal.com/profile)[**wolfpacklove**](http://wolfpacklove.livejournal.com/)  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real.

~One~  
He doesn't need that shit, he thinks as he packs up his guitar. It starts to rain on top of a really shitty day so far. He finds shelter under the marquee of a closed record store and sighs. There is a Starbucks on the opposite of the street. He can see right through the window and looks away. A few steps to his right an old man is sitting near a bowl with change. This only seems to work for guys like this, though. He sets his guitar down and debates if he should sit down beside it. It seems like the rain won't stop any time soon. He is tired and his stomach clenches every time someone opens the door of the small bakery on the corner.  
It's a bit like torture staying here.

~+~  
The first time Pete sees the boy is on a rainy Wednesday evening when he leaves Starbucks with Mikey and Gerard, both of them holding full coffee cups and spare change. Pete doesn't even try to tell them anymore that the guys they give it to will spend it on booze.  
It seems it's not about that for the Ways anyway.

“One person at a time,” Gerard says.

“But you don't know if they're even worth it!”

“It doesn't matter,” Mikey answers, Gerard nods.

“Everyone is worth saving,” Gerard adds.  
It's somehow a lost cause to debate this with Gerard and Mikey.  
They pass the boy with the guitar and Pete thinks, wow, for a second because that boy is fucking cute.

“Hurry up, fucker!” Mikey shouts, while Gerard drops change into the bowl of the old man that appears to be sleeping.

“Yeah, coming!” He honestly doesn't know why he's friends with Mikey.

  
~Two~  
One week later the weather is still bad and his prof clearly hates him, because he has to do a documentary on something he finds extraordinary. He finds sex extraordinary, for God's sake, why can't he just do a documentary on that?! It's so fucking unfair.

“Tragic, really.” He is sure Mikey is being sarcastic right now, that little fucker.  
Gerard takes out a cigarette and Pete wishes he could smoke and look cool like that while he's slowly poisoning himself. To death.

“I'm not necessary gonna die earlier than other people. Maybe just not as healthy,” Gerard says, reading his thoughts.  
Pete waves it away, he’s heard that one before, from both Ways _and_ Ryan.

“Go and buy us coffee while we're thinking about your problem,” Mikey says. They're outside a Starbucks again and Pete didn't even notice. He sighs and goes to buy coffee anyway.  
When he comes out again the Ways are standing on the other side of the street, watching a boy playing guitar. His guitar case is open. An honest to God street musician. He shakes his head as he crosses the street, all their change will be spend on this boy.

~+~  
Both of them are kind of creepy, but it's not like Patrick can be picky with his audience. His guitar case is nearly empty. It was a shitty week for work and for being out on the streets. Just two days ago someone tried to steal his guitar. He has a bruise (or more) from the fight. He is not one to fight. Never was.

“Pete!” the smaller guy says, taking both coffee cups and handing one over to the slim guy beside him.

“And the change,” the slim guy demands.

“Can't believe you two! For fuck's sake, don't you see this is a lost cause?”

“It doesn't matter,” the slim guy answers.

“Mikey's right and deep down in your heart you know it too. You can drop it as well.”  
Pete shrugs and drops all the change he has in his pockets into Patrick's guitar case. The slim guy (Mikey) also drops five dollars. Pete looks a bit shocked.

“He played 'love will tear us apart' for me,” he answers, shrugging, and Patrick smiles into his scarf.

“Whatever, can we go now? It's fucking freezing,” Pete says, Mikey looks to the third guy and as he nods Mikey waves a bit with his fingers and they leave.  
Patrick plays for four more hours, but he only gets maybe four dollars total for his trouble.  
Bad weather really sucks.

  
~Three~  
Something hits his head and he startles awake. Children, he thinks, irritated. The sky is still grey and depressing.

“Dude! I'm fucking sorry,” a guy says, coming slowly closer. Patrick's seen him before, he just doesn't know where.

“Fuck. That hurt,” Patrick says. He’s grumpy because it's another shitty day and his head hurts.

“You okay?”

“Do I look like I'm okay?” Patrick asks, annoyed.

“Yeah, no, sorry,” the guy says, picking up something from the floor. It's a small book. “Were you sleeping here?”

“Yeah...” he says, getting up. He needs to get his guitar from the train-station and get to work.

“Why?” the guy asks.

“Because.”

“Hey!” He tries again, but Patrick has already enough of him. He knows that type, noisy, rich child. Spoiled.

~+~  
“So, remember that guy with the guitar?” Pete asks, and Gerard nods. A cigarette is dangling from his lips. He's sketching a tree, not looking up. And because Gerard is fucking sketching a tree Pete is sitting outside in the freaking cold as well, because he needs to talk to him. “I saw him sleeping on a bench in the park.”

Gerard does look up then. “Fall asleep after a party?”

“Possible,” Pete answers, he doesn't believe it. Something about that kid lets his alarm bells ring. Very loud.

“He doesn't look really homeless...” Gerard says carefully.

“Yeah, but he slept on a fucking bench in this freaking cold, what does that tell you?”  
Gerard shrugs, taking a drag from his cigarette. It looks somehow hot, how he holds it between his fingers. Fucking Gerard fucking Way, Pete thinks.

“You have a subject for your documentary yet?” Gerard asks out of the blue.

“No,” Pete answers. Gerard gives him a look.  
It clicks in Pete's brain and suddenly one and one equals two.

  
~Four~  
Patrick is not interested in someone walking into his life and wanting to make him a study subject, thank you very much.

“Leave me alone. I said no already. Three fucking times!” he snaps as he sees Pete approach again. Why is this guy not giving up?!

“I will be back tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that!” Pete says. Patrick sighs. He could just leave the fucking town. But it seems a bit much trouble.

~+~  
“I just want a few words and maybe sentences and I'm going to pay you!” Pete says. It was Mikey's idea, but as ideas go that one seems to be a good one.  
Patrick seems to consider his offer but then just turns and walks away like fucking always. The thing is by now he really wants to know more about Patrick and he really wants to make this documentary about him. About a homeless boy with a guitar. He will have to ask Gerard for a good title. And maybe some cover art or something.

  
~Five~  
“Hey, Patrick, is it?” the guy all in black who always drops five bucks into his case asks.

“Yeah?” Patrick says weary.

“I'm Gerard. Want me to buy you dinner?” he asks, lighting a cigarette.

“No,” Patrick says firmly. His mom told him all about older guys wanting to buy him dinner before she died. Gerard laughs.

“I didn't mean it like that. I swear I'm not hitting on you, kid. I have this friend, Pete, that one that comes here every day?”

Patrick nods. He knows. “And?”

“You should give him a chance. He's okay, for a douche,” Gerard answers, taking a drag. It starts to rain. “It's warm inside and there is coffee ...and food.” The last two words sound like an afterthought.

Patrick nods slowly. “Okay, but if you try something funny, I swear...”

“I'm not. I'm an artist. We don't fight...with our hands!”

“Make art not war?” Patrick asks, despite himself. Gerard is just fucking likeable, in a Tim Burton way.

~+~  
“He's going to hear you out. Make it good,” Gerard says. Pete just woke up. In fact it was his phone that woke him up. He glances at his clock. Four in the morning, he managed to sleep one hour.

“Do you never sleep?”

“I'm a vampire,” Gerard answers and Pete just knows he's shrugging, in front of a canvas with too much red and black on it already.

“So what was the first thing again?”

“That homeless kid is going to meet you at Starbucks, that one close to campus, where Ryan and Brendon are hanging out at?”

“Where Jon is working.”

“Yes, that one. At eleven. Don't be late. And make it good. You have just one chance with him,” Gerard says, Pete can hear him inhale smoke on the other side of the phone. Can picture it, Gerard's small lips. It's a fucking tragedy that he wasn't allowed to make the sex documentary. Professor Molko is evil. EVIL. In capitals.

“Thanks,” Pete says.

“Whatever, dude. Buy me coffee for the rest of my life and we're even.”

“Fucker!” he hears Mikey say in the background.

“Buy _us_ coffee and we're even,” Gerard corrects with a laugh. It makes Pete shiver to his fucking bones.

“Maybe I will.”

“You better,” Gerard answers, hanging up on him.

  
~Six~  
The guy is already there when Patrick enters. He's sitting in a corner near the window so he's seen. As if Patrick could not see him. He's the only person wearing a green sweater with flowers on it that isn't a girl. He nearly walks out again without talking to this guy.

“Hey! Patrick! Hey!”  
He sighs, he has no other option left anymore now that the whole shop knows his name and is looking between him and this Pete guy. Also he wants this guy to fucking stop yelling and waving and making a douche out of himself.

~+~  
“Hi,” Patrick says, sitting down. So up close he looks even prettier.

“Hey, so you talked to Gerard?”

“Yeah, I did. That's why I'm giving you five minutes. He bought me dinner,” Patrick answers and Pete fucking knows that Gerard charmed his way into this kid's heart already.

“So, I'm making a documentary for my...” he begins and Patrick interrupts him.

“I know, but why would I want to do that?” he asks.

That's a fucking good question. “Ehmm...”

“I could go to Oprah if I wanted the fucking attention.”

“It's not about attention! It's about you being an amazing person!” Pete says. Patrick looks sceptical. “Listen; just a few hours, talking about why you aren't living home or how it is to be on your own while so young or...” he waves his hands, thinking, “or about your music!”

“Ehmm...”

“Yes! Why are you playing music instead of begging or stealing or...being home?” Pete says. He thinks he might be on something here. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I swear. And I'm not trying to win you over with money anymore...”

“Well...” Patrick says. Pete isn't sure this is a good 'well'.

“And you can stay with the Ways! They have a spare room!” Gerard didn't offer and Mikey didn't either, but he is sure they will let Patrick crash on their couch. They're saving lives after all. “It's fucking freezing at night!”

“How long?”

“As long as you want?” Pete asks, a bit unsure what they're talking about.

“How long will this documentary thing take?” Patrick asks. Pete has the feeling he is trying not to roll his eyes at him.

“A couple of hours? But I only can do that on Wednesdays and Fridays between two and three or the evenings?” Pete answers.

“Okay,” Patrick says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Great! Just. Yeah, thanks!” Pete honestly can't believe his fucking luck.

  
~Seven~  
“We don't have a spare room! That's the fucking studio!” Gerard says.

“There is a couch!” Pete answers. Gerard sighs. “He can't sleep on the street anymore. Shouldn't have in the first place anyway. And you have a couch in a studio. I only have a small bed in my dorm room.”

“Fuck you Wentz,” Gerard answers, but Pete knows his resolve is crumbling like a cookie in a child's hand.

“One person at a time,” Pete says.

“Yeah, he can crash in the studio,” Gerard replies.

“Thanks!”

“You owe me years of the finest coffee.”

“I'll bring you Starbucks when I bring Patrick this evening.”

“Bring food!” Mikey shouts.

“Bring food.”

“I heard. I'll stop by the Indian restaurant. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

~+~  
The house looks like something out of a horror novel and Patrick really wants to smack his head against something really hard. How could he be so stupid? They are serial killers, maybe even eating human flesh and he is a new victim in a long line of victims. Stupid little fat guys like him. Pete rings the bell; it sounds old and creepy.

“Come in! It's open!” someone shouts from inside.  
Pete grabs his arm and opens the door. Inside it's dark and kind of scary, just like it looked on the outside. The kitchen is painted yellow and doesn't seem to fit the old, small house at all. Pete puts the bags down on the table and takes out plates from a cupboard.

“Fuckers! I brought food and Patrick!”

“Don't yell...” Mikey says, entering the kitchen.

“Where's your brother?”

“Studio, he's working,” Mikey answers, sitting down. “Hi!” he says to Patrick. Patrick nods.

“He's coming?”

“Sure. In a few.”  
Patrick feels a bit out of place here, but he doesn't think they want to kill him anymore.  
Gerard enters the kitchen ten minutes later. There is paint on his fingers and clothes.

“Patrick,” he says with a smile and something inside Patrick jumps, might be his fucking heart. Pete gives him a look. He doesn't care what Pete thinks.

“Hi,” Patrick answers.

“You guys brought food, great. I'm starving...”

“You forgot to eat, right? Since yesterday?” Mikey asks.

“I was busy,” Gerard answers, sitting down and spooning food on his plate.

“Right.”

“So, you will live here now. There needs to be coffee in the morning and... a clean mug?” Gerard says, musing. “Yeah, that's all and don't touch the wet paintings. Rules all set,” he adds, reaching into his hoodie and fumbling for something.

“Here,” Mikey says, producing a key from the back pocket of his pants.

“Ehmm?” Patrick tries.

“You need a key, don't you? So you can come and go? We aren't always home...” Gerard says and gives Pete a look that dares him to say a fucking word. Pete grins, but keeps quiet. Patrick has no idea what that was all about, but he doesn't care. He takes the key and puts it in his pocket.

“Thanks,” he nods to Mikey and then Gerard.

“Yeah, whatever.”

  
~Eight~  
“This is...” Gerard begins.

“Awful,” Mikey finishes his brother's sentence. Pete glares at him, but there is not much heat behind it. It is fucking awful. You can't see much of Patrick's face and he is mumbling and you can't understand a thing, also he looks like he wants to run away any minute now. He stops the video and sighs.

“He doesn't trust me,” Pete says. It's the fucking truth. How can he make a documentary when the subject doesn't trust him and wants to run away? He can't ask any personal questions either, because Patrick blocks them stubbornly.

“That much is obvious,” Mikey says, he lights a cigarette and hands it over to Gerard and then lights another for himself. Gerard nods his thanks.

“Hey... Could you talk to him? Maybe do an interview thing?” Pete asks hopefully. He is pretty desperate, but truth is that Gerard can charm everyone.

“I have my own projects to finish, you know?”

“I have one month left, please? I’ll buy you dinner for a week?”

“Two,” Gerard says.

“And you do the dishes as well,” Mikey adds. It's fucking hard to argue and win with the Ways. He thinks about it, but he needs this done and is running out of time.

“Deal,” he says. Mikey smiles his small, secret smile and Gerard just nods, exhaling smoke.

~+~  
“So... how is the studio?” Gerard asks. He is painting and Patrick is sitting on the floor with his guitar in hand, but not playing. He is afraid that it might disturb Gerard.

“Okay, thanks,” Patrick answers. It's warm and the blankets smell clean, so yeah and it's not raining down on him. A total plus. He stares out of the window. He came back earlier and thought that Gerard would've been done by now, but it seems he needs to finish a painting by tomorrow. Mikey isn't home and he felt a bit lonely after being out so long in the cold, so he sat down in the studio after asking if it was okay.

“I know, it's not that comfortable...I sleep on it from time to time when I'm too beat to make it to my bedroom,” Gerard says.

“No, it's okay.”

“Patrick?” Gerard says. Patrick looks up from the strings and at him. He likes how Gerard is saying his name. He maybe really shouldn't, but he does.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you making things so difficult for Pete?”

“I... he... is prying okay? And I can't... he wants to know everything and I don't like to be in front of... I don't like attention.” He feels embarrassed.

“But why did you say yes?” Gerard wants to know. Patrick risks a glance in his direction, Gerard is looking at the canvas, adding a bit more magenta to a creepy looking flower. The truth is it’s because Gerard asked him to give Pete a chance, but he doesn't think he can tell Gerard that. He shrugs, even if Gerard can't see it.

“I don't know,” he lies.

“Maybe because you want to tell your story, but not when Pete is there?”

“Maybe,” Patrick admits. He really wants someone to know things about him, wants someone he can talk music and art with and how it feels to lose someone. He wants so fucking much he thinks, but in reality it's only basic stuff. Things everyone wants.

“Mikey and I... we lost our grandmother a year ago. That's her house,” Gerard says out of the blue.

“I'm sorry...” Patrick really is sorry and a bit at a loss here, because why is Gerard telling him that?

“Thank you, but that's not why I told you. See, the thing is, we are going to share secrets now. So they aren't secrets anymore.”

It makes sense in a twisted way. Patrick is thinking about what he can tell Gerard for a while and then settles on, “I ran away because I couldn't stand my stepfather.” And doesn't offer anything else.

“I like painting, it makes me feel calm and collected also it makes the things in my head go away. That's the reason why Pete writes and Mikey plays bass,” Gerard says. Patrick isn't sure it's okay to tell other people's secrets, but if Gerard knows then they aren't secrets anymore, right?

“I play for the same reason... I used to play for the same reason. I also liked to drum, because...it exhausted me and I could fall asleep easier,” he tells Gerard. It’s really easy to tell Gerard stuff.

  
~Nine~  
Gerard is right. It's easier to answer Pete's questions on camera when he already told this stuff to Gerard.

“My mom died and my stepfather was a douche, so that's why I left,” he tells the camera. They are recording in Gerard's studio, Gerard painting something on a big canvas in acrylic, it smells sharp and intoxicating. It doesn't bother Patrick, as he spends a lot of time here. He knows that Gerard is not in the picture, but it helps Patrick knowing that he is in the room and just doing what he does. For Gerard everything seems to be natural, as if there weren't any shades of grey, or as if there were too fucking many to care about them.

~+~  
“That is actually pretty fucking great,” Mikey says as Pete stops the video.

“I know, right? Whatever your brother is doing with this kid, it's working. He even laughs... I mean on camera, he laughed and it looked so fucking great...” Pete trails off. Mikey grins around his cigarette. That fucker. It's not that. Mikey of all people should know. It's not. Besides, Pete has the feeling that Patrick still hates his guts.

“We're going to mess around with our guitars this evening, you have to be somewhere?” Mikey asks. Actually he has. There is this girl he met at Starbucks and...

“No, I'm coming.”

“Don't forget your bass, dude...”

“That happened ONE time...Jesus.”

Mikey laughs, that fucker.

  
~Ten~  
His second week in, Gerard falls asleep on the couch in the studio, he just snuggles into Patrick's side and Patrick doesn't know what to do.

“Is this okay?” Gerard mumbles just before he nods off and Patrick doesn't even have the time to process the question or formulate an answer.  
He makes room for Gerard so they aren't touching, but that only seems to make Gerard grab his shirt and burrow deeper into his side.  
Patrick hasn’t slept beside anyone for a long time. He never traded a place to stay for sex; he never made friends with anyone since he started living on the streets. He... isn't sure he should be doing this, should stay here, let Gerard snuggle into his side.  
But he does.

~+~  
Pete can admit that he is fucking jealous. He is spending a lot of time with Patrick, but still Patrick seems reserved. It's just different, he is just different when he's with Gerard. And that's where the jealousy comes from. He isn't exactly sure if he's jealous of Patrick or Gerard. Maybe both.  
Patrick is sitting closer to Gerard than he is sitting to any other person. Pete is nursing a beer and kind of, maybe moping. But he does it manly, that's for sure.  
Patrick is playing with the strings of his guitar. Not really playing a song, more like fooling around with melodies.

“You write?” Pete asks.

“What?”

“Music,” Pete wants to know. Patrick is not looking up from the guitar as he nods.

“Gonna play something?” Gerard asks. Patrick seems to think about it, but then just starts and it's pretty fantastic, Pete thinks.

“You were right,” Mikey says and Patrick looks up.

“About what?” he wants to know.

“About how fucking extraordinary you are,” Pete says and Gerard nods. Fucker, Pete thinks, but he can't really be mad at Gerard for being freaking awesome. It's like hating Doctor Who. Somehow not possible.  
Patrick ducks his head, and Pete finds it adorable.

  
~Eleven~  
“He's a bit like Ryan,” Gerard says out of the blue, his cigarette dangling between his fingers, a pen in the other hand. They're outside in the freaking cold again, because Pete is a sucker for Gerard's everything and Gerard wants to sketch a graveyard.

“He's nothing like Ryan,” Pete answers, he isn't even going to pretend he doesn't know what they are talking about, or who.

“He's like Ryan when he’s with anyone but Spencer or Brendon,” Gerard says, taking a deep drag from his cigarette.

“He's...” he begins and stops, because, yes, that might be true to some extent.

“Yep,” Gerard says. He sounds smug for Gerard.

“He likes you,” Pete says, kind of from nowhere.

“Everyone likes me,” Gerard answers, shrugging.  
True enough, Pete thinks, but Gerard is such a fucking liar.

~+~  
Patrick doesn't think it's a good idea to stay much longer. Things between him and Pete are getting a bit messy. It's somehow difficult to not like Pete. Pete is not like Gerard who just has this strange, weird, creepy charm. Pete is Pete. It shouldn't be an explanation, but it is. And Pete is worming his way into Patrick's heart, with his bass and his laugh and his being Pete.

“Thinking?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah...”

“You're waiting for the wind to change, aren't you?” Gerard wants to know.

“Are you quoting Mary Poppins?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Pete asks from the door. Patrick didn't even hear him. Gerard laughs around his cigarette.

“Are you, Patrick?” he repeats his question.

“Yeah, I am,” Patrick admits. He is. He is waiting for the weather to change. Less rain and more sunshine and he will be able to go...somewhere.

“Don't you like it here?” Pete wants to know.

“I do,” Patrick answers, not looking at Pete. That's the problem, he thinks. He likes it here and he knows that he can't stay, because what will he do then, when they leave him?

“Then there is no problem,” Pete says.

“That _is_ the problem.” Gerard takes a drag and keeps it in for a few seconds. Patrick nods, watching him.

“I honestly don't understand how that can be the fucking problem, Patrick!” Pete says, angrily.

“Pete,” Gerard says.

“Fuck you!” Pete shouts and storms out. Gerard takes another drag.

“There is nothing that moves you, is there?” Patrick wants to know. He is surprised by the question himself.

“Not true, Patrick,” he answers, but doesn't explain it further.

  
~Twelve~  
“You like him,” Patrick says. It's a bit out of the blue, but Pete guesses he had it coming.

He shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah...” Why lie when it's so fucking painfully obvious?  
Patrick smiles a tiny smile that doesn't look like Mikey's or Ryan's and Pete leans over to kiss his lips softly. Patrick lets him and Pete for once doesn't want to think about what that means.

~+~  
He thinks that he maybe shouldn't have let Pete kiss him. What he gathered from his own observing and Gerard, Pete isn't the steadiest person on the planet.

“You kissed Pete,” Gerard says into his brooding. He looks up, his fingers slipping on the strings of the guitar.

“He kissed me,” Patrick corrects.

“Hmmm...”

“You know he likes you, right?” Patrick asks.

“Yeah,” Gerard answers. He is holding a brush in his hand already, the butt of a cigarette swimming in an old coffee mug. Patrick thinks Gerard is hiding here. In his studio. Behind his brushes and the smell of paint, in plain sight in front of a canvas. He is hiding here, like Patrick is on the streets, like Pete is behind his bass and hurtful words.

“You shouldn't hide,” Patrick says. He thinks that Gerard will tell him that the same goes for him, that it maybe goes for everyone everywhere, but he doesn't.

“I'm good at it. So good that no one knows,” he answers, not looking away from the canvas.

“I know, so it's not a secret anymore,” Patrick replies, putting the guitar aside gently.

“He likes you too, you know?” Gerard says. Patrick nods, he is not an idiot.

  
~Thirteen~  
The weather finally changes in early April. He wakes up and the sun is shining on the canvas; he feels Gerard stir beside him. He was painting late into the night and Patrick was playing a new song he’d come up with.

“I want coffee...” he mumbles into Patrick's shirt.

“I don't think Mikey is up yet,” Patrick replies. He can feel Gerard's damp breath on his skin, through his worn out shirt. It's a bit unsettling.

“You might be right,” he says, his eyes still closed. Patrick could get up and make some coffee, he knows this house like his own. It feels a bit like home.

“Suck it up,” he says instead.

“You are a cruel, cruel man, Patrick M. Stumph,” Gerard answers, opening his eyes. He blinks for a few seconds before his gaze focuses on the window. “The wind has changed...” he adds, softly.

“Seems so,” Patrick answers. He wants Gerard to tell him to stay but knows that he won't, because Gerard has this thing going on where he doesn't tell people what to do.

“You will leave soon, right?” he asks.

“I...” he tries, something deep down in his guts is twisting and it's too hot in this small bed with Gerard pressed against his side.

“It's okay, I'm sure Pete will get over it,” Gerard says. Patrick isn't sure he wants that.

~+~  
Pete tosses black paint over Gerard's newly finished painting and then sits down to watch it slide slowly over the canvas and onto the floor. He knows Gerard will be back soon. He can hear Patrick's voice answering questions and laughing at something Pete said; the laptop is on, it plays parts of the documentary on repeat.

“What the fucking hell! PETE! The fuck is fucking wrong with you!” Gerard shouts as he sees it. He is still in the door, didn't even enter the studio yet. Pete doesn't turn around, but he knows that Gerard is gripping the door frame so hard his knuckles are white around the bones and that there might be splinters of wood from the frame under his fingernails.

“You know, you are right,” Pete says calmly, “there are no shades of grey.”  
It's somehow poetic, like in Fight Club. He had the desire to destroy something beautiful. He begins to understand that Gerard has that desire as well, all the fucking time.

“I didn't make him leave,” Gerard says; he is breathing hard.

Pete nods. “I know. That's not your crime.”

“What the hell?!” Gerard sounds like a wounded animal, Pete knows he is staring at the canvas, he can feel it. He hears nails on wood and asks himself if Gerard will punch him any minute now. Gerard is not violent by nature, but even he has a breaking point. This might be it. Pete keeps staring at the canvas, the black paint, dropping down on the floor. He turns slowly around and looks at Gerard. Gerard's face is white with anger. He is shaking, his knuckles _are_ white around the bones.

“You didn't tell him to stay,” he says and Gerard closes his eyes and doesn't answer.

~end~  



End file.
